Moments in Time
by TwiTricksandTreats5
Summary: Bella and Edward have searched high and low for their forever home, and they've finally found it. But their Victorian fixer-upper holds more secrets than just original hardwood floors. Can they unravel the mystery before history repeats itself?


**Moments in Time**

The car rolled to a stop in front of the old house. The paint was peeling, the roof was in disrepair, and the overgrown lawn and flowerbeds didn't exactly make for a welcoming sight. The shabby appearance of 1918 Forks Drive held little in the way of curb appeal.

"Tell me again why you want to see this one." Bella was turned away from her husband, eyeing the nearly dilapidated house through the passenger window.

"Because besides the cosmetic issues, it's exactly what you said you wanted—a Victorian with some character," Edward said as he shifted the car into park. "Not to mention it's priced way under market value, which means we can renovate it with the money we aren't spending and make it exactly what we want."

Bella hummed, not sure about her husband's assessment. "It just looks creepy," she mumbled as she reached for the door handle.

Edward reached out for her before she could open the door. "Hey, if it's not right for us, then we'll just move on to the next one on the list."

She nodded and got out of the car. Pulling their coats tighter to ward off the October chill, they walked hand in hand up the path, and the front door swung open. The smiling face of their realtor, Rosalie McCarty, greeted them as they stepped onto the creaking porch.

"Good morning!" she said, opening the door wider. "I really think you two are going to love this one. It looks pretty rough—quite a bit rougher than the others we've looked at—but it's got great bones."

Even though she was skeptical, Bella stepped through the door with Edward. What greeted them inside was what she had expected; the dated interior was dusty and cobweb-filled. Time and obvious neglect were evident everywhere she looked. But what she didn't expect to find were small details that called to her.

Though worn in sections from long-past foot traffic, hardwood floors ran from wall to wall. Under years of dust, the staircase bannister and its ornate spindles were stained a deep mahogany color. Intricately carved crown molding lined all the ceilings, and it added a touch of elegance that had been missing from the bland, personality-less homes that they'd already seen in their price range.

Bella spun on her heel, and on the spot, she was won over by the stunning fireplace on the center wall. In an instant, Bella could see a fire blazing in the hearth, stockings hanging from the mantle, while she and her husband lay naked and intertwined on a pile of blankets under the twinkling lights of a Christmas tree.

Edward squeezed her hand. "Babe? Did you hear Rosalie?"

She cleared her throat. "Hmm? I'm sorry, what?"

Their realtor spoke up from her spot in the doorway. "I asked if you'd like to see the rest of the house."

Bella smiled and shook her head, clearing away the visions. Even without seeing the rest, Bella knew she saw something in this house she'd not seen in any of the others.

Potential.

"Absolutely."

**...**

A month after their offer was accepted, the work began. They had hoped the four months leading up to Bella's week off for spring break would be enough time to complete the renovations, but delay after delay put them behind schedule. At the rate things were being delayed, the dream of moving into the house in March was all but dead. The renovation took far longer than anyone expected. Well, almost anyone.

Rosalie's husband, Emmett, was their lead contractor. He'd warned them that they'd encounter unexpected issues. And they did.

"Rosie was right; this place has good bones," he'd said to them one cold December morning. He blew across his thermos of coffee before taking a healthy swig.

"But ..." Edward prompted.

"It doesn't help that no one has lived in this place for the last six years. Things that might have been salvageable if the heat had been left on are too far gone to save. Almost all the plumbing needs to be replaced, and that isn't cheap. I'll do what I can, but ..."

"Yeah, we know." Edward pulled Bella closer to his side and kissed her temple. "Just do it right." He looked down into his wife's hopeful eyes. "This is our forever home, so we want to get it right the first time."

After the plumbing issue, the boiler had to be updated, add to that, the cost to replace the entire roof had put a major dent in their budget. But once the repairs started, they were all in.

Emmett also did his best to guide the couple in making the best decisions. They all did their research to remain true to the era whenever possible when choosing building materials and finishes. Everyone involved worked hard to restore the forgotten home to her original beauty.

**...**

The roof was watertight, the temperature was a pleasant seventy degrees, and the water flowed freely through the brand-new pipes. Once the work began on the cosmetics, it seemed to take off in a sprint. Floors were sanded, stained, and sealed, and walls were repaired. Appliances were ordered and color schemes and fabric swatches were brought over.

Edward's mother, Esme, was an interior designer by trade, and helping her son and his wife design their home was the most fun she'd ever had.

"Oh, Bella, we simply must plan a day to go antiquing. We could find a few signature pieces that would really make a difference."

"I think we might just stick to the furniture we have now, Esme. The budget got a little out of hand in the kitchen." She grimaced at the thought of just how much she'd spent on the Viking range. It was certainly an indulgence, but as Edward had told her, this was their forever home, and the kitchen was the heart of it. He'd said to spare no expense. And she hadn't.

The floor-to-ceiling windows on the south wall of the kitchen were also a splurge they had agreed on. Even though they didn't keep true to the era of the house, the natural light they allowed into the space was amazing.

Esme waved a dismissive hand. "Then consider it a gift. You live in one of the oldest homes in the area. It would be a shame to fill it with DIY furniture from IKEA. At least allow Carlisle and me to buy a few pieces for your bedroom."

Resigned, Bella sighed. Once Esme Cullen got an idea in her head, there was no convincing her otherwise.

"Fine, but _only_ our bedroom. As much as I appreciate the generous offer, I'm not sure Edward would be okay with you outfitting the entire house."

Esme wrapped her in a one-armed sideways hug. "I knew you'd see it my way."

**...**

Weekends were prime antiquing days for Bella and Esme. Edward bowed out more than once, and most excursions were fruitless. They'd picked up a few odds and ends along the way, but nothing they found was _just right _for the space.

Weeks turned into months, and in August, nine months after they'd signed the papers, the house was ready to move into. All their belongings, including their IKEA furnishings, were loaded onto the moving truck, despite Esme's protests.

With moving and unpacking, Bella had been unable to go with her mother-in-law to find the perfect bedroom furniture and accessories, and Esme was reluctant to go without her. So, she did what any good mother-in-law would do; she helped unpack.

It took them little more than a week, and the house was nearly completely in order. And as any other new homeowner with a brand-spanking-new kitchen would do, Bella wanted to cook. With the calendar officially turned to the month of October, she knew she could get away with indulging her inner basic bitch and go crazy with the pumpkins. Never having had the space to make such a mess, she was taking full advantage of her favorite room in their home.

Pumpkins of all shapes and sizes lined her kitchen counter. The larger ones had faces, silly or scary, carved into them. The smaller ones were cut and gutted; their seeds and goopy innards laid in a pile next to the dirty mixing bowls and pans.

Scents of cinnamon, vanilla, and nutmeg filled the air as the pies and bars baked in the oven and cookies cooled on the counter.

"What smells so damn good?" Edward called from the foyer. He hung up his jacket on the coat rack and loosened his tie, rolling up the sleeves of his button-down as he walked down the dim hallway.

Bella smiled to herself as she continued piping swirls of cream cheese icing on a cooled tray of pumpkin bars. "I was in the mood for something sweet," she replied, her voice carrying over his nearing footsteps.

"I've got something sweet for you," he murmured. He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her back to his chest to kiss the top of her head. He looked at the disaster covering their usually orderly kitchen. "What happened in here, babe?" He took in the pile of pumpkin guts and dirty dishes. "It looks like October's issue of _Better Homes and Gardens _threw up all over the place."

Bella smiled up at him. "What can I say? I was in a festive mood."

"Festive, huh?"

She turned back to her task. "Yeah. I've never tried to make pumpkin anything from scratch." She shrugged her shoulders. "Thought I'd give it a try."

"Well, it smells amazing." He nuzzled his nose into the side of her neck. "But not nearly as amazing as you." His lips and tongue attacked the sensitive skin just below her ear, and she melted in his arms.

She giggled, but as he continued, her giggles morphed into soft moans. "Edward," she whined.

"What?" he asked, his voice husky.

"I need to finish this," she said as her eyes fell closed.

"Yeah? Well, I need to finish this," he said against her skin, his hands grasping her hips and pulling her tighter against him. He attacked her neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses. His hands wandered, finding the hem of her shirt and exploring the soft and supple skin hidden underneath.

She writhed under his ministrations, his touch igniting a fire inside her. When his hands moved up her torso, along her ribs, her hands shot up, gripping the back of his neck. When he slid the lacy cups of her bra aside, finding her taut nipples, she whimpered.

"You like that?" he panted against her neck.

"Yeah," she replied, breathless.

"You want more, baby? Because I really want to bend you over this counter and fuck you right here."

Again, she whimpered, and it was all the go ahead he needed. His lithe fingers left the confines of her bra and found the hem of her T-shirt, pulling it over her head. With no words spoken, he unhooked her bra, slipping the straps down and off her shoulders. When the cool air came in contact with her already hard nipples, they tightened even more. His hand slid up between her breasts and gently wrapped around her throat.

"Do you have any idea how badly I want you?" he growled low against her ear.

His warm, wet lips traced the shell of her ear, his teeth nipping at her skin. His kisses moved down her neck to her back, trailing down her spine. He moved lower, until he was practically on his knees, and reached to unbutton her jeans. His hands disappeared under the lace hidden within, finding her wet and ready.

He groaned, resting his forehead against the small of her back. "My god, baby. You're so wet for me."

Wasting no time, he pulled his hand from her panties and grasped the edges of her jeans, sliding them over her ass. What he saw made his already hard cock throb in need.

"You're killing me, baby," he mumbled when her pert ass cheeks greeted him. The lacy thong she wore was a deep blue—his favorite color on his wife—and was a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin.

From his position, nearly on the floor, he looked up at her. She, in return, looked coyly over her shoulder. Her eyes were unfocused, dazed, at what he was doing to her. She was in a state of hazy lust, and Edward knew what he wanted to do next.

As good as the sweets that Bella had been working on smelled, he only wanted to eat one thing.

Edward grabbed her by the hips and spun her around, lifting her onto the countertop. With a firm but gentle hand, he guided her to lie back. She hissed as her skin made contact with the cold marble, and she arched her back.

"You look good enough to eat, baby, spread out like that for me."

The angle she was left in—her arms stretched over her head, gripping onto the far edge of the kitchen island, and her feet left dangling several inches off the ground—made her defenseless to his attack.

He dropped to his knees and pulled the dark blue lace from her body in one smooth motion. He grasped her hips and pulled her closer to the edge of the counter, lifting her high enough to reach what he was after.

When his tongue made contact with her clit, her eyes shut and she let out a deep, breathy moan. The sensations coursing through her were overwhelming. It didn't take much for her to nearly combust.

Grasping her calves, he rested her feet on his shoulders, angling her pussy where he wanted it. He fucked her with his tongue, and with each swivel of her hips as she writhed against his face, he grew impossibly harder, almost to the point of pain. But he didn't relent. That is, not until she screamed out as she came.

Wasting no time, he stood and turned her over onto her stomach. The moment the cold marble came into contact with her nipples, she screamed out. Edward unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his zipper, releasing his cock. In one swift move, he pushed into her.

"Goddamn," he mumbled under his breath. Tossing his tie over his shoulder and grasping her hips, he began to thrust into her in earnest, his rhythm unrelenting. Bella hung on to the far edge of the counter and moved her hips, doing her best to keep up with his pace.

As they moved, their heavy breaths, grunts and groans, and slapping skin were the only sounds in the room. The cold marble pressed against her nipples combined with her husband's cock buried deep inside her was enough to push her over the edge. She moaned, long and deep, as the pleasure coursed through her body.

Her husband followed just behind her with a shout of his own. "Fuck!" He stilled, his cock pulsing as he gripped her hips and squeezed his eyes shut as his orgasm ripped through him, a flash of white light flaring behind his closed lids.

When he finally collected himself, he pulled out, leaving his boneless wife still lying on the counter. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm his breathing. When he reached out a hand to help her up, he didn't expect to hear the giggles coming from her.

"What's so funny?" He stepped closer and traced a single finger down her spine, making her shiver. Still, it didn't stop the giggling. "Bella, you're making me feel a little self-conscious here."

Her head rose from the countertop, and she looked over her shoulder. "You said our kitchen looked like a _Better Homes and Gardens_ magazine, but that's not what I was reading." She grinned widely, but Edward's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

She rolled over, away from the half-iced pumpkin bars, and rose up onto her elbows. "I was actually reading the October issue of _Cosmo_. Apparently, the smell of pumpkin is an aphrodisiac for guys." She sat up and reached for his tie, pulling him close enough to whisper against his lips. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say it worked." She grinned as his mouth crashed into hers, and the second round was just as intense as the first.

**...**

"What about these?" Edward pointed to yet another set of tables, but Bella wasn't thrilled with them.

She shook her head and scrunched up her nose. "No, they're about fifty years too new." She kept walking, leaving a confused Edward still staring at the perfectly good furniture.

"Does it have to be perfect?" he mumbled under his breath. He shook his head and rushed to catch up with his wife, who seemed to be on a mission.

In fact, she was. Esme had been under the weather, a nasty upper respiratory infection taking her out for several weeks, and she had been too sick to join them. She had also exhausted her resources, taking Bella to every antique store in a fifty-mile radius. Bella had found Moments in Time Antiques quite by chance, the ad coming across her Facebook feed the previous week. Esme insisted her son and daughter-in-law go without her and wished them well. She hoped their expedition would be fruitful, and they would find something perfectly suited for their home.

Edward reached for Bella's hand and brought it to his lips. "I didn't realize we were going for specifically-aged nightstands," he said, a single brow raised.

Bella smiled and pecked him on the cheek. "I just want to get something perfect." She shrugged. "Your mom is the one paying for this shopping spree. Besides, we've been looking for so long, why not hold out for something exactly right?"

Edward took a deep breath and blew it out. "I guess so. But mom can be—"

Bella's squeal cut him off, and she took off in a sprint toward the far corner of the room. Edward followed dutifully behind. When he reached his wife's side, he was impressed.

Hidden amongst the surrounding pieces was an entire set of Victorian era, rosewood furniture. An ornate headboard, a tall wardrobe cabinet, a short, wide dresser, complete with curved sides and a gilded mirror stood tall next to two smaller drawer-filled tables. The brass hardware needed a good polishing, and all the wood needed a thorough dusting and cleaning, but under the grime of neglect, he could see they were stunning.

"Oh, Edward, look!" Bella's squeal pulled him from his thoughts, and he spun on his heel to see what the excitement was for.

His wife was lying on a plush, deep blue velvet chaise, its own carving as intricate as the rest of the set.

"Can you believe this? It's an entire set! And this is a fainting couch! A _fainting couch_, Edward! How incredibly cool is that?" Her eyes sparkled with happiness at their find, and seeing her pale skin against the deep blue made his decision for him.

"Perfect."

**...**

It took a bit longer than they'd planned to track down the shopkeeper. Alice Brandon was a small woman, not even five feet tall, but what she lacked in stature, she more than made up for in attitude. The light that shone in her sharp eyes was a sure sign she was a force of nature when she wanted to be.

"And you'll need delivery, I expect?" She eyed them speculatively.

Bella nodded, her smile still in place. "Yes. And we'll need to arrange for payment." She looked up at Edward, a blush filling her cheeks. "It's a gift from his mother, so I'll need you to contact her."

The woman hummed as she continued filling out the bill of sale. She looked up from her scrawl and to the wide-eyed couple. "Just so you know, there are no returns; all sales are final."

Bella smiled and leaned her head against her husband's bicep. "There won't be any need. The set is absolutely perfect."

Once the price had been negotiated and the payment had been sorted, Mrs. Brandon handed Edward the bill of sale. The smiling couple left the antique shop with stars in their eyes and a delivery date on their calendar. Neither one of them realized they hadn't needed to give Mrs. Brandon an address to make the delivery.

**...**

Nearly two weeks later, the unmarked box truck groaned and creaked as it backed into the Cullens' driveway, and two of the most unsavory looking delivery guys climbed out.

Bella, knowing they were coming, was anxiously waiting on the front porch for them when they pulled in. As the truck doors opened, Bella stepped off the porch to greet them.

"Hello," she said with a warm smile. "You have no idea how excited I am to see you guys."

Her enthusiasm wasn't met with much more than a forced smile. Shaking her head and doing her best to brush off their gruff demeanor, she stepped back and out of their way, letting the men work.

They said little as they opened the back of the truck, each of them using moving straps to hoist the heavy furniture down the ramp. Bella ran to catch up with them, opening the front door to allow them inside.

She opened her mouth to tell them which room it was to be taken to, but before she could speak, they'd already begun to head up the stairs.

"Okay, that's a little weird," she whispered to herself.

Realizing they must assume it was to be taken to one of the bedrooms, she shook off her unease and headed up the stairs behind them. When she reached the top of the staircase, the men had already delivered the wardrobe to their bedroom.

Her brow furrowed, and she stepped back, allowing them to pass and get the next piece. She was still in a daze when the tall, pale, raven-haired deliveryman presented her with the delivery receipt to sign.

She scribbled her name on the signature line and absentmindedly handed back the form. The man ripped a copy from the back and handed it to her, leaving without so much as a "have a nice day."

Needless to say, Bella was still a little unsettled by the time Edward arrived home.

"Honey, I'm home," he called from the foyer.

"In here." She was curled on the couch in the living room, sipping a glass of wine when he walked into the room.

He leaned down and kissed her temple. "What are you doing down here? I thought you'd be filling all that furniture with our clothes and whatnot." He sidled up next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.

She was tense, and Edward noticed.

"What's wrong, babe? Did they damage something when they delivered it?"

She shook her head and leaned forward, placing her wineglass on the coffee table. "No. But I think it could use another cleaning before we put any of our clothes in it."

"Then what's wrong? You can't be this upset about needing to dust it."

"I'm not." She side-eyed him, wondering if her wild imagination had just run away from her today, or if she was justified in her feeling of uneasiness.

"What is it, Bella?" he asked softly.

She explained how the two men had arrived and been less than friendly. Edward teased her she was maybe a little too excited about her new furniture and might have made the men wary of _her_.

"But it's not just that. They knew where to put it."

He looked at her expectantly, his forehead crinkling in confusion. "Where to put it?" he asked slowly.

"Yeah, like, they knew which room it went in ... without me telling them! They even knew where in the room I wanted it without me saying a word! Isn't that just a little weird?"

"Bella, are you sure—in your excitement—you didn't go off into one of your tangents and tell them but didn't realize it?"

Questioning herself, she got quiet. "Maybe," she whispered.

"I'm sure you were just distracted." Again, he kissed her temple and patted her thigh. "Now, let's go clean that furniture so we can get my underwear out of the cardboard box it's been in since we moved."

Armed with a bottle of Old English furniture polish and microfiber towels, they got to work. Bella took on the task of cleaning the larger pieces, and Edward tackled the smaller ones. Like anything else they did, they worked in sync. They chatted about their days—Bella's as a first-grade teacher and Edward's as an IT specialist at the local hospital—passing the time as they worked.

As Bella stood with her back to her husband, reaching to the top of the wardrobe, Edward pulled one of the drawers from the small end table. He stood it on end to more easily clean the drawer front, and as he did, a soft _swoosh, thump_ sounded.

Curious, Edward lifted the drawer, turning it as he inspected it. Knowing something seemed not quite right, he looked more closely.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said softly.

"What?" Bella looked over her shoulder, wondering what Edward was mumbling about.

"Babe, I think we hit the jackpot." He looked up at her with a wide grin. "This drawer has a false bottom."

Her eyes widened and sparkled in excitement. "Really?" She placed her rag on the floor and dropped to her knees beside her husband. "What do you think it is?"

He shrugged as he looked for the catch or mechanism that would reveal the drawer's hidden contents. "Could be love letters from a hundred years ago, or old pictures of a lost love." He found a spot in the lower panel of the drawer and pulled out his pocket knife, knowing it was just the right size to pry it open. "Could be someone's grocery list from 1985. Who knows?" He wiggled the tiny blade into the gap and pressed down on the knife handle gently.

"Careful!" Bella warned.

"I'm being careful." And he was. Delicately and deliberately he wedged the small blade under the panel until it loosened enough to lift it with his fingers.

With high anticipation, they both sat holding their breath as the panel was lifted away. Simultaneously, their shoulders fell in disappointment.

A large manila envelope, something all too new looking, dashed their hopes of finding some lost relic from the past.

"It's not old," Bella said disappointedly.

"Could be old, just not nineteen-hundreds-old. I mean, these things have been around for a while, babe."

Bella pointed to the shiny brass prong used to close the envelope. "Not this kind."

He kissed her forehead and smiled. "Always so negative," he scolded with mock disappointment. "Maybe it's some legal document and we'll inherit some dead guy's estate." He waggled his eyebrows.

Bella shoved him playfully. "Stop teasing me. Just open the damn thing."

Slowly enough to irritate his wife into another shove, he pinched the clasp holding the envelope closed and pulled the flap open. What was inside puzzled them even more.

"More envelopes?" Bella asked.

Edward huffed, impatient to figure out the mystery. He turned the contents out onto the rug and noticed they were all marked.

"They're dated."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Open one!" Bella was practically giddy, bouncing in place.

Edward quickly ordered the envelopes by date, oldest to most recent and in various states of yellowing, and began opening them, starting with one marked 1989.

Polaroids.

Six Polaroid pictures were tucked inside. The grainy, hazy images of a young couple, their faces turned toward each other in a private moment, were old. Even without the date on the envelope, Edward and Bella knew they were old. The acid-washed denim the blond man wore and the woman's _big_ hairstyle was a dead giveaway to which decade they were from.

As Edward shuffled through the stack, Bella couldn't help but feel like there was something familiar about the setting of the pictures. The odd thing about them was every single shot was taken as if the man and woman had no idea they were being photographed. The fifth one—a picture of the man and woman in a compromising position—only confirmed their suspicions. But when they reached the sixth, they both gasped.

Bella grabbed her husband's arm. "Edward?" she asked in a shaky breath. "What ... What am I looking at? Is that—"

"Yeah," he choked out. "I think so."

"Is it ... Do you think it's real? It's a prank, right?"

Edward studied the greenish, bluish, not-quite-in-focus picture of the man and woman, their bodies mangled together and bleeding.

"I hope so."

Bella glanced at the pile of unopened envelopes, now terrified to see what was inside. "Should we open the rest?" Her voice trembled, matching the rest of her.

Edward looked at the envelopes like they would explode if he were to touch them, but he had to know for sure. "We probably should."

He reached for the next one in the stack, dated 1995. Long gone were the shoulder pads and big hair; this couple wore flannel shirts and babydoll dresses. A private moment shared between two lovers was once again caught on film, unaware. But again, the sixth photo in the stack was another gruesome one. This time, though, the killer's method was slashed throats.

"We should call the police," Edward said just loud enough for Bella to hear him. "These ..." He turned to meet his wife's wide and terrified eyes. "I don't think these are a prank. We need to turn these over to the police."

Bella agreed wholeheartedly and sat on the floor by her husband's side as he made the call. As he spoke to someone on the other end, Bella studied the pile of envelopes. There seemed to be something significant about the dates.

1989

1995

2001

2007

2013

2019

She did the math—which was a feat, given her state—and realized the six envelopes were all marked with dates six years apart, each containing six photographs.

Bella curled into her husband's side as he continued to give the police more details. With a shaky hand, she reached for the next one in the stack; 2001. As with the previous photos, another young couple met a horrifying end at, presumably, the hand of this demented madman. But as Bella studied the more innocuous photos of the bunch, that feeling of familiarity crept back into her subconscious. The backdrop to one of the pictures was _startlingly_ familiar.

The couple was dressed for Halloween in their Playboy bunny and Hugh Hefner costumes, and were wrapped in a passionate embrace, kissing in front a fireplace. The surrounding walls were covered in obnoxious flower-covered wallpaper, and the giant mirror hanging over it was different, but it was the very same fireplace where Bella had envisioned she and Edward would make love and hang Christmas stockings.

The Polaroids slipped silently from Bella's fingers, and her face suddenly felt clammy.

"Bella? Babe? Hey, you're scaring me." Edward's panicked voice was close, but Bella couldn't speak.

Her mouth gaped, and tears welled in her eyes.

"What is it, Bella? What did you see?" He looked down at the discarded photos and shuffled through them. It was obvious when he spotted the one that had shaken Bella. "Oh, God," he whispered. He pulled his wife close and kissed the side of her head. "It's okay. The police are sending someone over to get these, and we can give a statement or whatever else they need, and they'll take care of it, okay?"

She nodded, not at all feeling okay about any of this.

**...**

Jacob Black was a relatively new detective, a transplant from the a sparsely populated county to the west. He'd been a beat cop for a few years, giving speeding tickets before moving up to investigating petty crimes, but the big city gig was new. He'd wanted something more exciting, and being the new one in the department, he was the one called on to investigate what the dispatcher warned could be a Halloween season prank.

And a potential years-old murder case was definitely more exciting than handing out traffic violations and investigating stolen lawnmowers.

He knocked on the Cullens' front door and waited. The even more wet behind the ears "junior" detective stood silently beside him. When the door opened, he was met with an obviously overwrought man.

"Detectives?" Edward asked, extending a hand.

"Mr. Cullen?" he asked, meeting the man's outstretched welcome. "I'm Detective Black, and this is my partner, Detective Clearwater." He motioned to the younger man standing beside him.

"Come on in." Edward opened the door wider, allowing them to pass. "My wife is in the living room."

Bella's red nose and equally red-ringed eyes gave away the fact she'd been crying. But she stood and managed a smile to welcome the two men.

"Mrs. Cullen," Jacob said with a nod in her direction.

"I'd say it's nice to meet you, but under the circumstances ..." She wrung her hands and stared down at the coffee table where the harmless looking manila envelope laid.

"I understand." Jacob's tone did little to calm Bella, but she appreciated his efforts. "Why don't we have a look at what you've found, and we'll go from there?"

Edward nodded and sat beside his wife, taking her hand in his and doing his best to soothe her. They watched as Detective Black donned latex gloves and opened one envelope at a time, all while asking questions about how, exactly, the Cullens had come into possession of the pictures. Clearwater, meanwhile, sat next to his partner and took notes, cataloguing the evidence.

"You say these were hidden in the false bottom of a drawer? From furniture you just bought?" Jacob asked as he slipped the fourth envelope into an evidence bag and opened the fifth one. The images, captured on the same three-by-three Polaroids were from 2013, and captured the stolen kisses and happy smiles of a young couple in love. And while the home in the pictures showed signs of needed repair, he recognized it was the very same house they were sitting in now.

"Yes," Bella answered for both of them. "From Moments in Time Antiques. It was just delivered this morning."

Jacob nodded as he looked over the photos. His gut told him it was more than a coincidence they were taken in this house, but he wasn't sure what that meant. But as he opened the final envelope—the one marked 2019–he was stopped cold.

His expression—wide-eyed and suddenly pale—alarmed the Cullens.

"What is it?" Edward instinctively wrapped an arm around Bella and pulled her closer to him.

"You," he said, his voice cracking unprofessionally. "It's pictures of the two of you." His quiet proclamation might as well have been shouted for as loud as it sounded in the silence.

"Us?" Bella asked shakily. "What do you mean ... us?"

Detective Black laid the five photographs out on the coffee table. Images of them—their own stolen kisses as they worked together to paint the living room, Edward giving his wife a firm smack to her behind as they unloaded moving boxes, a passionate kiss shared as they laid together on the sofa, and their round of lovemaking amongst the pumpkins and treats in the kitchen—were on full display.

"Oh, God!" Bella's hand flew to her mouth and tears filled her eyes. "That's—" She choked on a sob.

Edward pulled her closer to try and calm her. "It's okay, baby."

Bella pulled away. "How can you say it's okay? That's _us_!" She pointed down to the pictures of them. "That ... that ... psycho was watching us, Edward! Just like he was watching all those other—" She dissolved into near hysterics, practically hyperventilating.

Edward did his best to calm her, but it was no use. He wasn't in much better shape than she was anyway.

The detectives left their card and promised to have an officer stop by in a few hours to do a wellness check. It was the best they could do on such short notice. But Detective Black was determined to find out why pictures of the Cullens were amongst those of five dead couples.

As soon as the men left through the front door, Edward armed the security system and triple checked all the locks all while Bella used every extra sheet and blanket in the house to cover the windows.

**...**

Unnerving.

It was the only word Jacob could think of to describe it. Six envelopes, each dated six years apart, all but one holding six Polaroids. The most recent, though, the one with only five pictures, was the most unsettling.

He knew the Cullens were in danger, but as a new member of the department, he was worried his investigation wouldn't get the attention and manpower it needed to be solved.

"If you grind your teeth any harder, Jake, you're going to crack a tooth. What are you so deep in thought about over there?" Seth asked from beside him. It was well after sundown now, and the winding stretch of highway was dark other than the headlights of their sedan.

Lit only by the blue dash lights, Jacob turned to his partner. "I'm worried about them. If he's the one who took the pictures, there's a murderer still out there. And even if it's someone else, there's a sick voyeur creeping around in their bushes." He turned back to the road. "We need to make some calls as soon as we get back to the precinct. First is to call the antique shop. We need to get the name of the person who sold them the furniture. Then we need to dust the Polaroids for prints. It might be a decades-old case, but there's got to be _something_ to go on." He shook his head in frustration. "At least call in the request for a wellness check."

Before Seth could reach his cellphone to call it in, a loud pop could be heard, and the car swerved. Jacob quickly lost control of the steering wheel, and they veered off the road, hitting a tree at nearly fifty-five miles an hour. Their airbags deployed, but the shattered glass and crumpled metal did enough damage.

Broken and bleeding, Detectives Black and Clearwater laid helpless and unconscious, unaware of the danger hiding just feet away.

**...  
**

"You should try to sleep," Edward coaxed from his side of their bed.

Bella stared out into the darkness, terrified of what might lie in wait for them. She knew something ... someone insidious was out there. She just wasn't sure if ... when he would show himself.

"Are you sure we should stay here tonight?" she said softly against the windowpane.

"Bella, we've got a high-end security system, and Detective Black said he'd be sending someone by to check on things tonight. There's not much we can do but wait for them to start investigating."

She let the heavy curtain fall back into place, and she turned around. "But we could stay in a hotel, or even your parents' house."

He opened his arms to her. "Come here."

Reluctantly, she climbed into their bed and snuggled into her husband's side, allowing him to hold her.

He ran his hand over her hair, smoothing it, comforting her the best he could. He kissed the top of her head and tucked it under his chin. "We're perfectly safe, babe." Even as he said the words, he doubted their truth. "I've triple checked all the locks, and the alarm is set. If anyone tries to get in, we'll hear it."

Bella looked up into his eyes, doing her best to put all her trust in her husband. "And you're prepared to fight someone who wants to hurt us?"

He placed a soft kiss to her worried lips. "I'd fight anyone to protect you."

They got little to no sleep that night, both of them jumping at each and every sound in the darkness. When morning dawned, they rolled out of bed and brewed an extra strong pot of coffee. And only because they had to, they parted ways to go to work.

The unease followed them. Peering into dark shadows, around corners, and constantly looking over their shoulders, they were both on edge. Neither of them knew how long they could go on this way.

And it was only day one.

The trouble was, _days_ passed, and no word came from Detectives Black or Clearwater. But when Edward read a page three article in the newspaper about the men being involved in an accident, he made a call to the station to get some answers.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cullen, but I'm unable to give you any more information regarding Detectives Black and Clearwater." Mrs. Cope, the precinct operator was polite, but she wasn't being very helpful.

"I'm not looking for information on _them_, I just want to know if our case was handed over to someone else? Isn't there anyone I can speak to?"

The clicking of keyboard keys sounded over the line as Mrs. Cope hummed. "It doesn't appear that your report was ever filed. I can't find your name among any of the records, other than your initial call to the department."

"If it was never filed, wouldn't our file have been in the car with them? Would the crash investigator have found it? Our case file and the evidence bags Detective Black collected should have been in the car." Edward's anxiety began to ratchet up with each dead end.

Mrs. Cope hesitated, but she finally gave an inch. "I'm really not supposed to do this, but if you'll give me a moment, I can speak to my supervisor about the accident report. Can you hold?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

The elevator music playing over the line did little to soothe his frayed nerves. There _had_ to be someone in possession of the pictures, the file Clearwater had been writing in that night. But he didn't get the answer he wanted.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cullen, but there is nothing in the accident report about your case. If you'd like, I can send another officer out to take your statement?"

He cleared his suddenly dry throat. "Yeah, please. I mean, there's no physical evidence to hand over, but we can at least give a statement, right?"

"Absolutely," she said kindly. "I'll call down to the department and have an officer contact you, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Thank you," he murmured.

He ended the call and tossed his phone on his desk. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. It seemed this nightmare wasn't anywhere close to being over. Now he needed to tell his wife why they hadn't heard back about their case.

Their case file, along with the evidence, was missing.

**...**

A week passed before Detective Black woke from his own personal nightmare. The head injury he sustained in the crash had left him trapped in his own head. The coma, though relatively brief, allowed his body to rest and heal.

He turned his head toward the man seated in the chair beside his bed.

"Hey, boss."

Chief Denali sat at Jacob's bedside. "How are you feeling, Black?"

He looked down at his body, his left leg and arm covered in plaster, and grimaced. "I've been better." He looked up at his friend and colleague. "How is Clearwater?"

Denali's face fell.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"I'm afraid not." Denali leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Seth had a head injury more severe than you did. It led to a brain bleed a few days after the accident." He swallowed hard, knowing how Jacob would feel about losing his partner. "He's gone."

Jacob's head fell back against his pillow, and he fought the tears stinging his eyes. He nodded. "Have they had a service for him yet?"

"Afraid so. Just yesterday, in fact. The family wanted to get it done, and we didn't know when you'd be waking up."

Jacob said nothing else, lost deep in thought about how so much went so wrong so quickly.

**...**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Paper skeletons, friendly ghost cut-outs, and cardboard witches decorated the storefronts in the quaint little town. Even Moments in Time Antiques was decorated for the holiday.

"It's the only thing I can think of to get some answers. No one from the police station has contacted us, and every time I call, I'm put on hold by so many people I end up being connected back with the operator." Edward shifted the car into park, cut the engine, and got out. He walked around to the other side and opened his wife's door, helping her out.

Reluctantly, she accepted his assistance. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Edward didn't release her hand, and they walked, fingers intertwined, toward the antique shop. The bell rang as they opened the door and walked inside.

"Hello, and welcome to Moments in Time. I'm Bree," the perky shopkeeper said as they walked toward the desk. "Is there anything special you're looking for today?"

"Actually, I'm hoping you can give us some information." Edward stepped closer to the young woman's desk. "We purchased some furniture several weeks ago, and we were hoping you could tell us where it came from."

Bree's nose scrunched up. "I can try. But I'm not sure how long it might take me to find it. This is my mother's shop, and she is very old school when it comes to paperwork. Everything gets filed in boxes. But," she said as she walked around to get a key from the desk, "she keeps everything. All I need is the order number on your receipt and I can cross reference it. Do you have it with you?"

Edward nodded and pulled the slip from his pocket. "Here," he said as he handed it over.

"This might take a while. I can call you when I—"

"No," Bella interrupted. "We'd much rather wait, if that's okay."

Bree smiled. "Of course. Just make yourselves comfortable and I'll be back as soon as I can."

**...**

Jacob Black hobbled slowly into the precinct just a few days after being released from the hospital. They were allowing him to come back on desk duty until he was fit to go back in field. He was worlds away from his previous shape, and it would likely be months before he would be back to it.

Settling in at his desk, he went through a short list of phone calls first, including leaving a message with the Cullens. He apologized for the mishandling of their case and promised to follow up with a new report and officers to check in with them in the coming days.

He tackled his out of control emails next. Weeding out the junk mail, he was left with over a hundred to reply to. It took him until lunch before he put a sizable dent in the replies. When he clicked to the next on the list, he froze.

Leah Clearwater.

With a thundering heart, he opened it.

_Detective Black,_

_I am glad to hear you are doing so well. We want you to know we place no blame on you for the accident that took my brother's life. The official report said it was mechanical failure, so I guess it was just a terrible accident. _

_But the reason for contacting you is actually business related. Going through Seth's personal effects after the accident, we found a small evidence bag in a pocket of his suit coat. I wasn't sure of the sensitivity of the evidence, so I wanted to wait until I could contact you personally to arrange handing it over. Please contact me at your earliest convenience. _

_Again, we are glad to hear you are recovering. _

_Sincerely, _

_Leah Clearwater _

_555-1234_

Not wanting to waste another second of time waiting on an email reply, he dialed the number, finally feeling like he had a purpose.

Leah agreed to meet him at the precinct, and by the end of the day, Jacob had dusted the Polaroid for prints.

He'd never been so elated to see two clear and distinct sets of ridges in his life. Now, all he had to do was run them through the database and wait.

**...**

Bree searched high and low for the intake receipt for the Victorian furniture the Cullens bought. She knew it would be difficult, but she had no idea just _how_ difficult. She couldn't even find the Cullens' _purchase_ receipt, let alone the one for the furniture's intake.

She spotted a smaller box, hidden behind the other, larger file boxes. She pushed and shoved the larger ones out of the way until she could reach it. Dusty and dirty, she doubted it held what she was looking for, but she wanted to honestly be able to say she'd looked everywhere.

Pulling off the lid, she was met with a single file, but within the file, she found what she had been searching for. But she also found something she wasn't expecting. "Ah ha!" Her triumphant cheer was cut short though when she looked more carefully at the Cullens' purchase receipt.

Behind the receipt was a small stack of others, including the intake receipts. Thinking she was seeing things, she took a double look.

"This can't be right," she murmured to herself, her stomach knotting at the implications. "Surely there's a mistake."

She walked out into the main room of the shop, still staring at the stack of papers in her hands in disbelief.

"Did you find it?" Bella asked, hopefully.

Bree looked up. "I did."

"And did you find out who brought it in?" Edward held Bella tighter.

"No, the name is blank on all of the forms," she said, still staring at what had to be a typo.

"Blank?" Bella asked.

"_All?_ What do you mean _all?_" Edward asked at the same time.

"I have six receipts for the same set." She looked up, ashen-faced, at the wide-eyed couple. "They were all picked up from the same address; 1918 Forks Drive. And the person who signed off on each intake and every sale was my grandmother."

"Your grandmother?" Edward asked, sensing there was more to the young woman's reaction.

She swallowed hard, not sure if what she was about to say was to be believed. "My grandmother died years before I was born ... back in 1989."

**...**

Jacob Black thrummed his fingers on his desk, anxiously waiting for the forensics lab to call him with news, _any_ news about the fingerprints. He'd been furious at first that Seth had tucked one of the evidence bags into his jacket, but in the end, it was the one thing keeping the Cullens' case from going completely cold.

The fact it was the picture of the couple going at it in their kitchen didn't surprise Jacob in the least. He was sure Seth had every intention of returning the picture to the case file ... just as soon as he made a copy for his _personal_ use. But he never got the chance.

His desk phone rang, and he rushed to answer. "Black."

"We got a hit on those prints you submitted," the lab tech said. "I emailed you the information."

Jacob opened his inbox, and there it was. "Thanks." Not wasting time on pleasantries, he hung up and opened the email.

As he scanned through the words, they didn't make sense. He had to read it several times. He had a name, he had a face, but he just couldn't understand the dates. He printed a copy of the information, grabbed his jacket and hat, and headed for the door.

He needed to talk to the Cullens.

**...**

The wind howled, setting the perfect tone for the evening. Still unsettled and utterly confused by the information they got from Bree, Edward and Bella did their best to remain calm. But it was difficult.

Tonight was Halloween, and just the thought of opening their door to people dressed in costumes and disguises put Bella on edge. But she also didn't want to be _that_ person on the block either. They were new to the neighborhood, after all. So, she begrudgingly dumped the bag of mixed, wrapped candy into the giant bowl near the front door and waited for the first of the little ghosts and goblins to arrive.

Edward had left to pick up dinner, neither of them in the mood to cook, and was due home at any moment. With each tick of the clock, Bella grew more restless. She promised herself she would open the door if a trick or treater came by if he wasn't home ... even if she'd rather hide under a blanket and wait for her husband.

But she didn't have to wait long. The sound of the back door opening may have startled her, but once her heart calmed, she sprinted for the kitchen.

"Hey, sorry that took so long." He kissed the side of her head as he placed the bag of takeout boxes on the counter. "They had to make a fresh batch of egg rolls."

"It wasn't that long." She looked up at him with earnest eyes. "I'm just glad you're home."

They were halfway through their Kung Pao chicken and Chow Mein when the first doorbell ring of the evening sounded.

Edward stood from his barstool at the kitchen island, kissing the top of Bella's head as he walked past her. "I got the first one."

She smiled up at him and watched him walk from the room. Before he could return, the doorbell rang again ... and again. Bella gave up, collected their takeout boxes, and took them to the living room. She curled into her spot on the sofa and dug in, watching her husband interact with the little beggars at their door. It made her smile.

"Hey," Edward said as he walked toward the sofa. "Can you get the next one? I need to make a pit stop."

"Sure."

The powder room door clicked closed, and not five seconds later, the doorbell rang.

With a heavy sigh, Bella trudged toward the door, grabbing the giant bowl of candy on her way. She opened the door, and the sight of all the children in their costumes made her smile.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her hand covering her heart in mock fright. "You all scared me!"

"Trick or treat!" The sound was off-key—high, squeaky voices not at all in sync with each other—but it was adorable, nonetheless.

"No tricks, no tricks! Here!" She thrust the bowl out for them to each grab a piece. "Take a treat."

Like piranhas, they grabbed in a childish frenzy at the proffered bowl. Tiny hands grabbed for fun-sized candy bars and mini bags of M&Ms. Once they all got what they wanted, they scurried off the porch, heading for the next house down the street.

Bella smiled as she watched them go. She stepped backward toward the door, intending to go inside, but a movement in the shadows of the trees caught her attention. Pale skin, light hair, and dark, shadowed eyes shone back at her in the moonlight. She almost tripped in her haste to get inside and slam the door closed.

As fast as she could, she locked each and every lock on the door; the knob, the deadbolt, and even the security chain were put in the lock position. With a pounding heart, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the door.

"So, did I miss any good costumes?"

Bella screamed and spun on her heel. When she saw it was just her husband, she was angry. "Don't scare me like that!" She charged at him and slapped his arm.

"Ow! What was that for?" He pulled her, flailing limbs and all, into his arms. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay." She looked up at him, and terror filled her eyes. "There's someone out there, Edward."

"Yeah, a bunch of kids begging for a Snickers bar." His attempt at a joke fell flat when Bella didn't laugh. "Wait, you mean _someone_? Not kids?"

The fervent shake of her head was enough to send him racing to make sure the house was secure. First, he turned off the porch light—trick or treating was officially cancelled at the Cullen house. He triple-checked the locks and set the perimeter alarm, returning in a flash to hold his trembling wife.

"Shh. I'm sure it was just one of the parents who got left behind when the kids took off for the next house."

"Yeah, you're probably right." They both knew Bella was doing her best to sound convincing.

They also both knew she was not convincing at all.

A loud and forceful knock made them both jump.

"I'm going to see who it is, okay?" Edward whispered as he looked down at Bella.

She could only nod in return.

After peeking out through the curtains, Edward could see it was a familiar face. He turned to look over his shoulder. "It's Detective Black."

He opened the door as fast as he could and welcomed the still-limping detective inside. "It's good to see you, Detective Black. I've been trying to reach you. I didn't think—"

Jacob wasted no time in giving an explanation. "We got a break in the case."

Hopeful, Bella perked up and ran to her husband's side, grabbing his hand in hers. "A break? What kind of break?"

"Well, it seems some of the physical evidence was only temporarily misplaced. Clearwater's sister contacted me to let me know one of the photographs was found among his personal effects after the accident." He looked between them. "And we were able to get some fingerprints."

"Do you have a name?" Edward asked, just as hopeful as his wife.

Jacob nodded. "I do." He pulled the printed arrest record from his coat and opened it. "I have a name and a face." He unfolded the black and white printout and turned it toward the couple still clutching desperately to one another.

The cold stare of a monster glared back at them. With dark eyes framed by high cheekbones and wavy light hair, the man was the image of evil in shades of gray. Scars covered his neck and arms, and just the sight of him was enough to make Bella's stomach roil.

It was the same pale skin, light hair, and dark eyes that were hidden in the shadows outside their home.

"His name was Jasper Whitlock. He was twenty-eight when that picture was taken back in 1980. He'd been arrested for breaking and entering."

Bella was focused on the photograph, but Edward caught a very distinct word in what the detective had just told them.

"Was?" he asked.

Detective Black nodded slowly and focused on the grainy image of the vile-looking Mr. Whitlock. He looked back up at the couple, regret on his face and confusion on theirs.

"Jasper Whitlock died thirty years ago at this address. He was found in what was determined to be a murder-suicide with a local woman ... Alice Brandon."


End file.
